5 25 - Drinking
by Galaxy-Defending-Hopeful
Summary: 5/25 from a prompt table. Prompt was 'drinking'. Harry and Dougie go out, and Harry gets more than a little drunk. Pudd, hinted Flones, language.


**Can I just point out that I literally never drink (I intend to stay as teetotal as possible because my family has a long line of alcoholics) so all of the information about alcohol in here is garnered from Wikipedia. Sorry if anything is inaccurate!**

* * *

'Drinking'

Whiskey. Whiskey. Tequila. Pisco. Snakebite. Whiskey. Gin. Tequila.

Glass of wine.

Beer.

Champagne.

Whiskey. Snakebite. Gin. Gin. Gin.

Sleep.

* * *

Harry woke up in an alley on the street, covered in his own vomit. The previous night was a blank. All he remembered was going to a club with Dougie – oh god, where was Dougie? - and then being thrown out after he passed out (he woke up very briefly and slurred some unintelligable nonsense at the people moving him, which probably explained the split lip and the blood he could feel crusted under his nose). Dizziness washed over Harry, and he bent to the side and puked again. His head was splitting, and while he was only a ten minute walk from home he didn't yet feel steady enough to do it. Leaning against the cold brick wall, he tried to piece together what had happened the previous night.

* * *

Him and Dougie had arrived dressed quite neatly, in black shirts and black skinny jeans. They wanted to make it clear that they were together, and so they had dressed in identical clothes. Approaching the bar together, the 18 and almost 21 year old ordered their first drinks and sat together, conserving energy for when they were drunk enough not to care that they couldn't dance. Cocktails to start it off. Harry preferred the creamy, 'girly' cocktails, while Dougie liked the strong, citrussy, juicy ones. Harry went for a piña colada to start with, while Dougie started straight off with a Black Velvet. Those were quickly gone, and soon replaced by a White Russian and a Mojito. They each had about three strong cocktails each, before rounding off on the bar's speciality, called the 'Screamingly Flirtatious Sexbomb'. It consisted of lime juice, sugar, whiskey, pisco and white rum, all shaken up with ice and then served in a pint glass. The bar offered free drinks for 24 hours to anyone who could drink it all in one go. The sour, burning taste hurt, but Harry and Dougie were drunk enough that they didn't care, and each managed to win themselves free drinks.

* * *

Harry blinked – he had dozed off again against the wall. He was shocked – had they really only _started _the night with so many drinks? They must have been absolutely smashed.

"Look! A beggar!" He heard the voice of a girl who must have been about six or seven, and turned slowly to see a woman hushing her child and pushing her away. The severity of the situation finally occurred to him – he had the worst hangover of his life and he was sat in an alley, covered in puke. He'd have to walk back, as no taxi would take him in this state and no buses ran anywhere near their house. Another memory flashed into his head, which made him cringe.

* * *

A girl had minced up to him in the club. She was gorgeous – even though he was completely, 100% gay, Harry instantly found her attractive. Relatively small breasts, quite a big tummy and big thighs, a nice, rounded figure...and her face. Jeez. Huge, round brown eyes, a cute little dimple (hungover Harry was forcibly reminded of Tom's adorable dimple) and red, pouty lips. Her hair was red, and hung in natural curls down her back.

"Hey. I'm Natalie." she whispered, pushing her face right up to his.

"Hi, I'm, um, gay." he replied, completely embarrassed. "And this is my boyfriend, Dougie."

She blinked her doe eyes and pouted her shiny red lips. "Spoilsport. Well, your next drink is on me." she gave a tiny, flirtatious smile before slipping a five pound note in his pocket and sauntering off to seduce some other, hopefully less homosexual man.

* * *

Harry felt in his pocket, and sure enough, the five pounds were there. Stumbling up, he grabbed the wall until the world stopped spinning, before shuffling into the street and staring around. He was surrounded by clubs, pubs and bars...but thankfully, there was one small newsagents which would be sure to sell water. Ignoring the stares of those around him, Harry stumbled off down the street towards the shop, brushed most of the still-wet vomit off of him and into the gutter and entered the shop, fantasising about a bottle of water. The shop sold water, and it was only a pound for a 750ml bottle, so Harry bought two.

"Thanks..." he said to the shopkeeper...who had very large brown eyes, incredibly curly long hair...and a badge with 'Natalie' on it.

"You were in the bar last night!" she exclaimed, staring at him. He nodded blearily, opening one of the bottles and downing it all. "Man, you had a rough night...you were great at dancing though!" she giggled. Harry groaned – he was beginning to remember the dancing.

* * *

It was a few shots later, when he and Dougie would normally retire from the bar and go home, when a cute boy of about nineteen strolled up to them.

"It's the gay dance next – and I haven't seen anyone as flaming as you two in ages! Come and dance?" he grinned, his voice deep and sensual, a contrast to his scrawny body.

"Um, yeah, okay!" Dougie agreed, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him up. The two walked down from the bar to the sunken-level dance floor. They both laughed when the music that started playing was Busted. Normally, the bar played dance music, but for the gay dances it either played pop or rock and for the singles dances it played dirty songs like 'Semi On The Dancefloor'. Harry began to 'dance', powered by the alcohol inside of him, and was soon in the middle of the floor while most others watched him. He swung his fists, he jumped up and down, he even attempted a headstand (he fell and landed in some dude's lap). Dougie watched from the edge, head in hands. Halfway through Harry's round, he left.

* * *

Harry blushed just thinking about it as he began to walk back home, the water inside of him taking the edge off of his headache. He began to drink the other bottle, but was stopped in the street about halfway home by a tall, muscular bloke.

"Thanks for sharing your free drinks round last night, mate!" he laughed, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Harry just blinked and nodded, still completely unsure of what had happened after Dougie left except for the fact that he had obviously drank a lot too much.

* * *

When he arrived home and entered the house, Dougie ran out of the living room and basically attacked him, pulling him into a tight hug.

"I thought you were dead, you idiot!" he began to sniffle, resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. At that moment, Tom and Danny came out of the kitchen – and joined the hug.

"Mate, you smell like an old man pissed on you." Danny told him, pulling back and groaning when he saw a shiny slick of sick on his jumper.

"You were on the news this morning." Tom informed him.

"Wait, why?"

"'Drunk and disorderly man thrown out of select bar in London' was the headline, I believe. It wasn't top story news – it was on the local bit." Tom replied. Harry laughed.

"I'm going to bed. I'm knackered."

"I hope you don't mind, but I'm definitely not coming with you." Dougie grinned.


End file.
